Tumblr Fic Drabbles - UsOz
by Well39
Summary: Short requests from tumblr. Each story is stand-alone. Jett is Oz
1. Partners in Crime

Alfred leaned casually against the side of a building, hands in his pockets. The woman he'd approached was flustered, flushed and tugging at the sleeves of her dress, handbag slung over her arm. The gold watch on her wrist caught the glare of the sun. They'd been chatting for a while now, and his easy smile had drawn a hesitant giggle from her mouth.

Jett watched from across the street, squinting as the reflected light of the watch hit his eyes. It wouldn't be long now.

Alfred leaned in towards her, reaching out. His hand hesitated for just a second beside her cheek, before he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

And that was it, she was gone. Jett moved, making his way towards them as she blushed a deeper shade of red, fluttering her eyelashes. Alfred glanced over her shoulder, making eye contact, and Jett nodded.

Alfred smiled down at the woman. "I really have to thank you, you know."

"What for?" she gazed up at him, her eyelashes not so much fluttering anymore as having a miniature seizure.

"Well," he leaned in even further, lips brushing her ear as he murmured, and Jett was there now. Their eyes locked, and Alfred grinned at him. "You do have such a lovely bag."

Jett snorted at his antics, snatching the handbag off her arm and sprinting past. He ignored the shout behind him, knowing Alfred would use the time she was distracted by the snatch to get away, and also knowing he had to keep moving. It was broad daylight, and they were in one of the heavily policed tourist traps of New York. He didn't know what had possessed Alfred to want to go after this lady, but it was a dangerous game he was playing.

Spotting a hidden alley up ahead, he rounded the corner and immediately slowed to a walking pace, tucking the bag under his arm and steadying his breathing. Coming out the other side, he blended into the crowd, easily merging with the press of bodies. Nobody spared him a glance.

He was safe.

A hand slipped into his back pocket and squeezed his ass, and Jett did not squeak, no he did not, that sound did not come from him. Gazing straight ahead, he elbowed the air at his side and was met with a winded chuckle.

"That was stupid, even for you," Jett muttered.

Alfred pressed a kiss to his cheek, hand not moving from its position in his pants. "Even for _us_ , you mean. We're a team, babe."

Jett didn't reply, just passed him the handbag.

"Babe?" Alfred was looking at him now. "Jett? What's up?"

Jett sighed, then gave him a smile. "Nothing. Let's go home?"

Alfred studied his face. "Was it the chick?"

Jett felt his nose crinkle, just a bit.

"It was! You're jealous?"

"Piss off."

Alfred looked at the bag, looked at him, then chucked it away. It landed in front of a homeless man, and Alfred waved to him as he pulled Jett tight to his side, ignoring his struggles.

"Keep the change," Alfred called.

"What are you doing? We worked for that!"

"I'm sorry," Alfred said, kissing his neck. "I'm sorry." He wasn't talking about the bag, Jett knew. He stopped trying to pull Alfred's arms away, and instead leaned back against his broad chest.

"Will you stop it? People are looking." It wasn't exactly the best idea to be attracting attention right after robbing someone.

"Don't care," Alfred murmured against his skin. He pulled away, turning Jett around in his arms. Alfred bit his lip, looking down at him. "Shit."

"Al?"

"You being jealous," he said. "That's … that's really hot."

Jett shivered as he met Alfred's darkened eyes. For a moment longer, they stood there, before a wolf-whistle broke them out of their daze. Jett flipped the guy off.

Alfred seemed to come to a decision. "Home," he said, taking Jett's hand and leading him down the street. "Now."

A thrill travelled over Jett's skin, and he laughed. "Yes sir, Captain!"


	2. Drunks

Request for meeting at a party whilst drunk au

* * *

The open doors let the music pound into Jett's head as he leaned over the balcony to get some fresh air. His fingers were loose on his cup, letting it tilt just a smidge too far. He ignored the slosh of cheap beer that splattered the sand below.

The view over the lake stretched out before him, and he couldn't help but admire the scenery. It was different from home, sure, but it was still beautiful. Trees ranged along the banks, grass coming nearly all the way down to the water's edge. There was ample room for children to play, relax and swim. The calm shallows fascinated Jett. In the time just before dawn, like it was now, the stars and moon would fade away, and without reflection, the water looked more like black silk than anything. Today however, light from the party spilled out over the yard and down to the lake, tracing over the surface and wavering where small wavelets lapped at the shore.

The urge to swim over took him. He found himself judging the distance to the ground with half-lidded eyes. Going back inside and taking the stairs was not an option he'd considered.

It wasn't too far. Only three meters or so.

Stretching him arms over his head, he climbed up onto the railing with a grunt. He may be drunk, but his motor skills were as good as ever, and he stood on the thin strip of wood without a wobble. Taking a last swig out of the cup, he chucked it over his shoulder and squared off to the open space before him.

"Prepare for launch," Jett muttered under his breath, a grin tugging at his lips. "Blast off in three, two…"

He crouched, prepared to jump as far forward as he could. He wanted to see how far he'd get.

"One!"

He leapt off the railing with a whoop. Or he would have, but for the sudden snag of his shirt on something behind him. His whoop turned strangled as he tumbled backwards onto the hard wooden decking, landing with a heavy thud. Breath knocked out of him, he lay there for a moment, heart racing from the unexpected fall.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" asked a pissed off voice.

Jett glared up through watering eyes as he struggled to get his breath back. Standing over him was a blond, well-built man. Hands on his hips, the man's blue eyes flashed behind his glasses. His cheeks were tinged red - whether from anger or alcohol, Jett couldn't tell.

"What the fuck mate?" Jett wheezed, struggling to sit up.

"That's my question! Are you trying to kill yourself?" the man jabbed a finger into Jett's chest, and he winced. "Who the hell just jumps like that?"

"I fucking do," Jett snapped. He shoved the man away. "Who the hell just stops me?"

Shit this guy was heavier than he looked.

"Alfred fucking Jones does." The man puffed out his chest as he spoke. "I'm not having anyone off themselves at my lil' brothers party, thank you very much."

Jett shook his head. This guys was unbelievable.

"Off themselves? It's the second story you bloody doofus."

Alfred paused, and peered out over the edge. His chest seemed to deflate slightly.

"So it is…" he sounded disappointed.

"I wasn't gonna die from that, no matter how I fell," Jett said.

Alfred turned back around, defensive. "You could have, I dunno, landed on your head or something."

"Like just now?"

"Yeah. Wait, no!" Alfred glared at him. "That wasn't your head."

"No, it was my aching ass actually. Cheers for that," Jett said, sarcasm dripping from the words. He stood with a groan, bending over to dust himself off.

Alfred's eyes travelled down Jett's body as he got up, then snapped back to his face. He was redder now, throat working without sound.

"Yeah, well, next time don't land wrong," he finally managed.

"Next time?" Jett grinned.

He hadn't missed the way Alfred had checked him out. He returned the favour with interest, gaze lingering a bit too long on the curve of young muscle under the tight shirt.

"You know what I mean," Alfred grumbled.

"Not really." Now that the initial shock had worn off and he'd had a chance to get a proper look at the guy, Jett was feeling a lot more amicable towards him. Alcohol fuelled bravery made him step closer. "Explain it to me."

Alfred seemed oblivious to the meagre amount of space between their bodies. This close, Jett could smell the beer on his breath. "Of course you do."

"Unless you mean you're gonna be there to pull me back 'next time'," Jett made air quotes with his fingers, "then, nope." Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but Jett interrupted. "And even if that was what you meant, I'm not sure I'd want you to."

His neck was still sore, and he was certain there was going to be a giant bruise on his butt in the morning. He rubbed it at the thought, and noticed Alfred's eyes follow his hand. They flicked back up to meet Jett's. Neither of them looked away.

Alfred cleared his throat. "How about I get you a drink as an apology?"

Jett hadn't expected the offer; he accepted without blinking.

"Alright," he said. His face stretched in a shark-like grin. "Sure you can handle it? I'm not exactly a lightweight."

Alfred bristled. "That a challenge?"

"Might be."

Alfred considered him for a moment. Then he smiled.

"You're on."


	3. Won't let you get me Down

Combination of two song and ship requests for "Down" by Five for Fighting

USUK/USOz

Jett is Australia

* * *

Jett squeezed through the crowded room, pushing past the other nations. They milled around at the end of the conference, talking and discussing things in small groups. He spotted Alfred's tell-tale blond hair with ease and waved, jumping to get his attention.

"Alfred!" he called, grinning like an idiot as his chest swelled. "Where have you been, I was…looking for you." The joy faded to resignation when Jett saw who Alfred was talking to.

Arthur.

It was always Arthur. No matter where. No matter when. There was a familiar stirring in his belly, a cold, bitter emotion that he stamped down on with as much force as he could muster. Plastering the smile back on his face, he approached the two; they had turned at his call, there was no way he could back out now.

Alfred near blinded him with the beam on his face. "Dude, Artie was just telling-"

"Arthur," the man sighed.

"Arthur," he stuck his tongue out, "was just telling me how you two have this competition with your grasshopper-"

" _Cricket_ ," they corrected him in unison, both exasperated.

"Fine, cricket then!" Alfred shook his head. "Anyway, I wanna come to the next ash whatever!"

Jett glanced at him in surprise. He'd never shown any interest when he'd invited him before. He noticed the way Alfred's blue eyes held Arthur's as he spoke, and his stomach twisted. Of course. It wasn't the cricket he was interested in.

The smile a bit more forced now, Jett reached out, wrapping an arm around Alfred's neck and pulling him down to his side.

"You gotta come and cheer for me in that case," he laughed as Alfred stumbled, "no point in backing the losers!"

Arthur glared at him. "Don't think you'll have it so easy next time, lad. That was a one-off."

"I sure hope so," Jett grinned for real now, the old rivalry calming him somewhat. "Five to nothing is a bit too much, don't you think? We'd like a bit more of a challenge."

That hit a nerve. Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Keep crowing while you can. You'll be eating your words soon enough."

Alfred, who had been watching from under Jett's arm with confusion, interrupted. "Wait, I thought England invented cricket?"

Jett choked, trying not to laugh as a furious blush found its way to Arthur's cheeks.

"It was a bad year, okay?" Arthur's glare switched focus as Alfred smirked. "Regardless, the next test isn't till July, so may we please talk about something more relevant?"

Jett snorted at the forced change of subject, but listened as Arthur scolded Alfred for taking an 'ice-cream break' during the meeting. Alfred winced at the reprimands, but there was a small smile playing around his lips. Arthur's words never seemed to have any real force to them.

Jett stood silently to the side, letting them have their time. The pull in his gut made him want to run away, but he stood there and smiled, because that was what he should do. Because he was indebted to Arthur for making him a country in the eyes of the world. Because it was, more than anything, what Alfred wanted.

"Mon cher, might I have a moment of your time?" Francis' wry tones interrupted Arthur before he could start on the rest of Alfred's misdemeanours. He stood behind them, a bursting file in his hands. A brief surge of relief overcame Jett before he could quash the feeling.

"Yes, the deal, right," Arthur stepped back, instantly switching to business mode. "I think customs needs to be more aware of the situation, don't you?" He waved goodbye to Alfred and Jett as he led Francis over to a nearby table.

Alfred watched them go, a mix of emotions playing across his face.

Jett bit back a sigh.

"You really are obvious, you know that right?"

"Shut it," Alfred kept his eyes fixed on the two. His gaze didn't waver.

The cold feeling threatened to overwhelm Jett. He hated that Alfred was so painfully oblivious. He hated that Arthur was just as bad. He hated himself for hating them.

He clenched his hands into fists and shoved them into his pockets, leaning forward. "I could help you out."

Alfred's gaze flicked to him, but his voice was cautious. "How do you mean?"

"I could help you get his attention."

And, wow, he hated the way that single sentence made Alfred's whole face light up, when Jett spent every moment they were together trying to coax that expression out of him. He hated that all he had to do was mention Arthur. More than anything, he hated that it still managed to set his heart racing, even though it was meant for someone else.

"Seriously dude? You would do that?"

Jett's stomach twisted as he forced a smile on his face. "'Course! What are mates for?"

"You," Alfred said, slinging an arm over his shoulder and beaming at him, "are my favourite person."

"Tell that to him, numb-nuts," Jett said, ignoring the numb ache in his chest.


End file.
